Normally Professor Brooks wasn’t an exceptionally fast fiction reader, but he reported to me that he’d finished it only seven hours after I’d given it to him. I supposed he must have done nothing but read it all day long. Or, much worse, he found it so disgusting that he’d skimmed through it in horror. My stomach ached at the thought.
I’d been cleaning in the master bedroom when he found me.
“Megan,” he said. He seemed off. Or maybe I was off, so everything seemed off to my eyes.
“Yes, sir?” I was already blushing.
“The book…”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Tell me it was a hint.”
“It was a hint, sir,” I confessed.
“Good,” he was so relieved he sighed, hard and loud. “Well, I’m glad someone’s hint was taken.”
The Jane Eyre book, I realized now. He tried to send me a hint three weeks earlier. If only he were more stubborn and rude, as Rochester was in the novel, maybe I’d have more easily understood. At last I could look into his eyes.
I didn’t know what to say now that the moment I’d longed for was upon me. My breath hitched and I busied my nervous hands with tugging needlessly at the sides of my apron.
“Do you wish to be treated as Beth was treated?”
That was the submissive protagonist in the book. So I admitted as much with a meek, ashamed nod. I wanted to ask what he thought. Was he interested? I hoped it wasn’t all in my head that the professor seemed to enjoy his authority over me. I looked up at him and hoped he could read my mind.
I suppose, based on context, it wasn’t that hard of a task as it normally was, reading someone’s mind. The professor did answer my wordless enquiry. “I want you to know this wasn’t my first thought when I advertised the job. It really wasn’t. But you’ve awakened something in me… your sweet obedience, the way you look at me – and I did find the book very exciting. Very exciting indeed! I’m sure you feel the same, seeing how badly the spine has been bent from numerous re-readings.”
I went from a thrilling joy to instantly dying of humiliation. My head drooped into my hands and my ears burned hot. I couldn’t even respond in my usual way.
“Is this book awful and disgusting, sir? Am I… am I awful and disgusting for liking it?”
“Not at all,” he promised me, giving my back a gentle rub. “This book was full of love, strange as it might be to some.”
I barely could breathe out my own sigh of relief before he went on with the stricter tone I’d most associate to his job in education.
“I’m afraid to say, though, exciting and sweet as it was, it’s not very historically accurate. How disappointing! You told me this was historical fiction.”
“…Sorry, sir?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Well, corporally punishing misbehaving servants wasn’t common nor legal during the turn of the century in America. And certainly it would be highly unusual for the master of the house to take a female servant over his knee, bare her bottom, and spank her by hand. Not to mention the… other punishments involved… later in the book.”
“Oh…” I said. I swallowed. It was horribly dry due to how fast my breaths came now. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“You do know how important history is to me, Megan.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then, there’s only one solution to all this. I think you should come to my study in half an hour and take a good spanking exactly as historically inaccurate as the one in that book.”
I felt dizzy as I shyly nodded to him. Getting exactly what I’d fantasized about for three months straight became a surprisingly overwhelming experience.
“Megan…” he warned me.
“Yes, sir,” I corrected myself. It sent a new shiver through me, the way he so assertively insisted on my usual response.
“That’s better. You don’t need to make your punishment any worse for yourself. I’ll see you in thirty minutes.” He headed off to his study in a such a hurry that I felt a breeze when he passed.
Waiting for that half hour was agony. In the book, Beth and the master of the house have a sort of mutual understanding that allows for her first, impromptu spanking to go very smoothly. One got the feeling that her master would easily sense if Beth had reached her limits, and he was no brute. I only hoped the professor had the same instincts, and could tell my true shrieks apart from my exaggerated ones.
I did want it to feel real, though. Even if it brought a few tears and made it difficult to sit for the rest of the day. I wanted to be spanked rather seriously by my employer, at least once before he might become my lover, and I’d rather have it be too hard than too soft. (Sometimes I dreamed of being spanked, and it was always so soft I could barely feel a thing. Nothing more frustrating.)
Approaching the study, every last step felt heavy and awkward. I only now realized that he had set this up in this way on purpose. Instead of instantly pulling me over his lap right there in the master bedroom, the professor opted to give me a way out. If I decided the fantasy was better left to our imaginations, or that I’d rather talk it all through first, I could have simply refused to meet him. But I barely hesitated. The touch of danger in it thrilled me. I knocked on his door at the designated time, and in doing so, fully consented to a rather real spanking.
“Come in,” he said. His voice was strong and a touch terse. I suddenly felt like one of his students handing in a paper a good week late.
“I’m sorry for the historically inaccurate book, sir,” I said, playing my role very easily. The anxiety was quite real. “It won’t happen again!”
“Yes, well, I suppose it’s a little late for that, isn’t it, young lady?”
The professor’s acting was only barely noticeable, in that he was no professional thespian on the stage. It was a balm to my nerves that all his frustration with me was faked.
“Yes, sir. It’s too late. I’m going to be punished.”
“That you are.” Professor Brooks ordered me to follow him to the back of the study, directly to a straight-backed chair. It was antique, like most things in his house, and seemed like the last remaining part of a dining room set. When he took a seat, it gave no creaky protest. “How was Beth punished in the book?”
“Oh sir, please…”
“Tell me.”
“She was hand-spanked very soundly, sir.”
“In what way?”
“…over the lap, sir.”
“And?”
I swallowed and hesitated from shyness before answering in a shameful squeak. “On her bare bottom, sir.”
“How will you be punished then, Megan?”
He was really going to make me say it. I blushed as I spoke the words. “You’re going to put me over your knees and spank my bare bottom very soundly, sir.”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Megan,” he said with a delicious sternness to his tone. “Over you go. Right now.”
That was when I felt the strongest twinge of lust, at this lack of a choice. I had to obey. So I lay over his lap with my uniform still on and waited, my head hanging shamefully between my arms. I felt so small and helpless.
He pat me just over my dress before gently pulling it up to the small of my back. Feeling the air brush against my skin, only thin white panties protecting my modesty, I couldn’t help but squeeze my eyes shut from shame. The position alone was humiliating, draped over a lap, waiting for a spanking. But then I felt fingers in the waistband of my panties and I whimpered in embarrassment as he tugged them all the way down to my ankles.
I heard his own breath coming in harder now, and felt the growing bulge of his excitement against the front of my thighs. It was a blessing to know he was as enthusiastic to discipline me as I was to receive it. His hand pat and then rested on the soft, bare skin of my bottom and I had an urge to push my back upwards to meet even more of his palm. But I waited obediently, knowing my place was more in stillness than movement. At least for now. I allowed him to feel me and enjoy his power over me, and held back all but a soft sort of panting moan as his hand rubbed me in tender circles.
His hand rose and I flinched before it fell. I was right to do it! The professor had delivered a very firm spank that made me yelp. The smarting burn had just begun to spread when he delivered another sound spank to my other cheek. A third followed even more quickly than that, and I cried out and squirmed helplessly over his lap.
The professor all too quickly found his rhythm, and it was fast and hard. His intent on realism made it so that I no longer had to play any sort of role. I was truly being spanked now, and all my complaints, all the little whines and squeaky cries and yelps, were effortless on my part. I couldn’t stop if I tried.
“Are you learning a lesson, Megan?”
“Yes, sir!” I said, just before his hand went back to delivering my punishment. “Ooh! Ow!”
I now kicked my ankles back, pointing the soles of my shoes to the ceiling, and so deeply and truly felt now like a naughty young lady who needed this punishment. He’d gotten every last inch of my backside now, and still he kept his soundly punishing rapid pace, making me shriek out my repentance as I wiggled fruitlessly across his lap.
Before I knew it, my legs were scissoring back and forth in a childish way, and my hollering was constant and frantic. There were tears in my eyes, threatening to fall. I tried to protect myself with a hand, and the professor took it and held it against the small of my back instead. “I’ll be good!” I promised.
“You’ve needed this spanking for a long time, Megan, and I’m going to make it memorable.”
“Ahhh!” I whined, but I did feel some mercy in the next couple dozen smacks. He felt my panic was becoming too real, which it was, and eased up. But the hot, stinging swats continued to prickle my sensitive skin, so I still kicked and wiggled over the professor’s knees wildly, pulling back against my trapped arm.
He paused to rub my smarting bottom. It had gone on for a long time by then, for a spanking, at least a couple of minutes. My shrieking now turned to whimpers and hitched breaths and I let my ankles fall back to the ground behind me.
“Have you learned your lesson?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Will you ever be a naughty girl again?”
I went silent. I didn’t mean it to be bratty or mischievous or anything like that, but I suppose it came across that way. Really, I was conflicted, because even as my bottom burned like it had been coated with fire, I wanted to be back over these strong knees again sooner rather than later.
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